


Complex Crystalline

by Goombella123



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Underage Drinking, heavy mentions of yut-lung’s past and backstory, set during the episode where Yut-Lung has Eiji hostage, the plot is just yeet having a breakdown sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 03:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: Eiji was made to heal the broken, to fix what is bad and wrong. Yut-Lung knows he has that power. Envies it. Craves it. So by his command, he must use it, and be nothing else.





	Complex Crystalline

**Author's Note:**

> oh right I haven’t read the manga so if you purposely spoil me Im gonna steal both your kidneys

Foggily, Yut-Lung drags himself to his feet. An empty wine bottle accompanies him, though at some point tonight, it was obviously once full. His hair hangs free of its red tie, falling over his face like in a horror-movie. Shuffling along the hallway floorboards, too, he’s sure he’s the very definition of terrifying.

 

He feels terrifying. Dizzingly so. Though some tiny part of Yut-Lung is sure that it should not be a good thing.

 

A very tiny part.

 

It’s the part that flinches when his nightgown catches on a table and knocks it over. Though it falls to his feet, Yut-Lung doesn’t bother picking it up. He’s too busy scowling at it like it personally offended him, and muttering at in Cantonese- “Stupid, idiot, worthless, whore-!”

 

He grits his teeth.

 

The lights are off when Yut-Lung enters, and they stay that way because he can’t be fucked to turn them on. Lying on the bed is Eiji Okumura; previously asleep, now sitting up and standing on edge thanks to Yut-Lung’s clumsiness in the hallway.

 

His eyes are wide, and his hands are gripping the sheets like a child during a nightmare, all despite being aged twenty. Five years less of a child than Yut-Lung, but only in number.

 

God, how he despises that Eiji’s had that luxury.

 

Yut-Lung sneers, tightening his grip on the wine bottle’s neck. “You.” he hisses.

 

This Japanese rat has the audacity to press his mouth into a line, something resembling concern, at the sound of Yut-Lung’s voice. His face in shadow, but Eiji’s confusion- and then revulsion- is fully illuminated, spotlighted for the world to see.

 

It asks, “Are you drunk?”

 

Eiji’s rightly hesitant to speak, but not scared enough to leave the disgust out of his voice.

 

Yut-Lung laughs.

 

He begins to stagger forwards, bringing with him the stench of rotting roses and fermented grapes.

 

“Shut up.” he slurs.

 

This boy- this angel-faced moron- isn’t allowed to show that kind of emotion. Eiji Okumura isn’t allowed to hate. Not even Yut-Lung. 

 

He was made to heal the broken, to fix what is bad and wrong. Yut-Lung knows he has that power. Envies it. Craves it. So by his command, he must use it, and be nothing else. 

 

“Little bird, little bird... my pet canary... ” Yut-Lung mumbles nonsensically.

 

Eiji blinks twice. He’s already half slipped out of bed and on the defence, breath coming quick from his throat. Yut-Lung watches it go, hypnotised.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eiji whispers, agitated. “What do you want with me?”

 

Yut-Lung purses his lips, a sloppy frown bitten down in rare unsurety.

 

“...The same thing Ash Lynx wants from you, I suppose.” Yut-Lung says.

 

“What?”

 

“He’s a strong guy, right?” Yut-Lung huffs. “So why you? He doesn’t need you... He doesn’t...”

 

Eiji takes a sharp, tantalising breath.

 

“You are wrong.” he says.

 

And Yut-Lung feels it like a knife to his chest, ready to split his ribcage open and spill everything. Blow apart his whole persona.

 

So it’s only natural that he’d suddenly become hyper-aware of the bottle in his right hand again, as he stands in front of a cowering Eiji.It’s pathetic- the both of them. 

 

Yut-Lung’s hand, the empty one, clenches reflexively.

 

“I hate you.” he spits. “So fucking much. You’re a waste of space. A complete waste of talent, too.”

 

Eiji’s eyes narrow. “I am surprised you think I have talent.”

 

“Only one.” Yut-Lung laughs, long and bitterly. “And it’s the talent for befriending whores and criminals.”

 

Eiji’s expression darkens in a snap.

 

Yut-Lung’s reflexes are dulled, he’ll admit, so Eiji is able to duck out from where he’s cornered him. With the momentum he has- and the advantage of catching Yut-Lung off guard- he manages to tackle the Chinese boy onto the bed, pinning him down to his front, his hands wrenched by his side.

 

_thuwmp._

 

He wrestles the bottle off him, too, making a noise of disgust when some of what’s left pours out onto the sheets.

 

“Enjoy the backwash.” Yut-Lung snickers childishly, though chances are Eiji won’t know what that is.

 

“You need to stop.” Eiji threatens.

 

“Or what?” Yut-Lung smiles, face pressed into the spot where Eiji’s legs would have been, moments before Yut-Lung stumbled in to ruin his evening. “Right now, you’re mine. You have no power here.”

 

He says, as the stronger, older boy reinforces his weight on top of him. Yut-Lung groans at the push.

 

“Tell me what the fuck you want.” Eiji hisses. “Or leave me alone.”

 

...Ah.

 

That tone of voice... that familiar tone of voice....

 

_...It really pisses me off._

 

“Hmm.” Yut-Lung says.

 

And then suddenly, he’s twisting out of Eiji’s grip, in a rustle of sheets and a startled, frantic yell. Naturally, he goes straight back for the bottle- but this time, he swings in at the bedside table.

 

It smashes in a show of loud, angry glass. It feels good, the adrenaline it bring- the vengeful fury Yut-Lung adores so much.

 

If he won’t exist the way Yut-Lung wants, he deserves to be terrified. Arms raised, legs shaking as Yut-Lung draws closer, brandishing the broken bottle like a lure.

 

“I hate you.” he says again. “For what you do to Ash.... for how weak you make him.”

 

_For what you won’t do for me._

 

Yut-Lung... isn’t sure what happens next. One moment he’s gripping his weapon like death, the next he’s on the ground. He thinks his body might hurt, and there’s a chair knocked over- oh. Eiji must’ve thrown it at him.

 

The remainder of the bottle has shattered beyond usefulness, too, somewhere behind Yut-Lung. The other parts left on the floor are pressing into his back. Hair splayed out beyond that.

 

Eiji is pinning him down again, fear and anger in his eyes.

 

Yut-Lung is sure that he must look a picture from where he sits; his mouth open in surprise, his hair an ocean of straight-cut black dotted with crystal. Even though the truth is that he’s a mess, and always has been.

 

The men who see him from that angle always wax poetics otherwise.

 

They’re good at pretending that things as ugly as shattered glass- or themselves- are more high and noble than they seem. Yut-Lung supposes that for this reason, he doesn’t mind that it’s Eiji currently gripping him between his thighs. Eiji, who is so far removed from this world that he might as well be from a different planet. Eiji, who lights up at any mention of Ash, who tries to break free from his cage at any opportunity just to be with him.

 

Eiji, who’s never once shown fondness for the moon.

 

Yut-Lung squints at him, trying to imagine what his expression would be like if he saw his hair as stars. If he lusted after pretty things, like all the other men do, instead of loving so selectively and wholly.

 

Yut-Lung squints at his face, before he grabs it kisses him.

 

Hand warm on Eiji’s cold cheek. The blood has rushed away from the boy’s face, and the hitch in his breath has nothing to do with arousal, or even liking Yut-Lung as a person.

 

He gives it ten full seconds, but nothing happens.

 

Eiji doesn’t seem inclined to push past his lips, or even move at all to return the kiss, instead opting to remain frozen in horror. So Yut-Lung finally pulls away, unsure if he’s pleased or disappointed. Eiji backs off him like a wounded animal, retreating just as quickly.

 

Hand over his mouth like a gag.

 

Yut-Lung twists his lips into a self-centered grimace, standing from where he once lay. Glass bites into his palm as he helps himself up. “So-“

 

“ _Shut up._ ” Eiji sobs.

 

Yut-Lung freezes.

 

In the shadow of the room, the boy is indeed shedding tears. They roll over his hand in gross, blobby waves. His shoulders clenched as he hiccups.

 

Yut-Lung doesn’t understand it at all.

 

 _It was just a kiss_. he thinks to himself, frowning. _What kind of person cries because of a kiss?_

 

What Yut-Lung doesn’t know, as the alcohol-fog catches up with him, is that he’d said all that aloud, and that Eiji had heard him.

 

Somehow, he manages to cry a little harder because of it.

 

 

 

 (None of that stops him from beating up Yut-Lung’s guards the very next day.)

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m making an AshEiji comic so that’s why I’m not working on my Yoi fic rn. Also, I only wrote this cause I’ve already read everything I like in the banana fish tag lmao 
> 
> If it sucked it’s cause it’s literally 3am and I’m posting this unedited from my phone notes.
> 
> lol yeet


End file.
